


Touch Me

by ABrighterDarkness



Series: Natasha Bingo [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Bombs, Dubious Consent, Explicit Consent, Explicit Sexual Content, Explosions, F/M, Feels, Hydra (Marvel), Missions Gone Wrong, Natasha Romanov Feels, Pollen Triggered by Touch, Porn with Feelings, Protective Steve Rogers, Rough Sex, Sex Pollen, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers is Not a Virgin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-07
Updated: 2020-03-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 22:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23054749
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ABrighterDarkness/pseuds/ABrighterDarkness
Summary: The bomb that destroyed the presumably abandoned HYDRA facility was more than it seemed. Temporarily trapped in a below ground bunker, Natasha and Steve learn that the hard way.AKA, HYDRA laces their bombs with alien pollen and Steve and Nat deal with the fallout.
Relationships: Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov, Steve Rogers & Natasha Romanov & Sam Wilson, Steve Rogers/Natasha Romanov
Series: Natasha Bingo [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1656832
Comments: 16
Kudos: 250
Collections: Natasha Bingo





	1. HYDRA Plays with Sex Pollen

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Natasha Bingo  
> Square Filled: Sex Pollen
> 
> This is part one of two. The second part will follow within the next few days.
> 
> This has not been beta'd so any errors or weirdness you find is all mine but I hope I didn't miss anything that makes it too difficult to enjoy :)
> 
> It is a Sex Pollen fic so mind the dub-con tag!

There was a heavy  _ thunk _ of the solid steel door slamming closed followed by the screeching of the bolt being slid into place. No sooner was the lock in place, Natasha was urged against the far wall, Steve’s large body curling protectively against her back between her and the door. The small room around them shuddered with the force of the explosion on the other side of the door.

Once the initial blast settled, Steve slowly stepped back away from her with a careful hand on her shoulder to help steady her balance. “You okay?” He asked, chest heaving with adrenaline. Natasha took a deep breath, coughing from the slowly settling cloud of dust and taking quick stock of her person and nodding in response. “I’m gonna check the door, see if I can hear anything.”

“It’s solid steel, Steve,” Natasha pointed out dryly. Even enhanced hearing would be hard pressed to catch anything through three inches of reinforced steel and concrete walls. 

It should have been a cake walk. The intel they had said that the building should have been a recently  _ abandoned  _ HYDRA facility where they might be able to pick up some fresher information and resources. When Sam had flown lookout, he hadn’t been able to see anything to the contrary. Steve had Sam keep his vantage point from the air as he and Natasha went in with Steve taking point. 

Initially it had looked like the intel had been correct. The facility seemed as though it was abandoned and in a rush. File drawers left wide open, doors agape, and computers connected. Unfortunately, it lulled even Natasha into a false sense of security. Steve had agreed when Natasha indicated that she was going to take a look at the computer system and had proceeded deeper into the facility with careful, near silent footsteps. She had taken just a moment to feel a small rush of pride at how quickly he had taken to more stealthy operations.

Twelve minutes later, the near silent footsteps were a thing of the past and fast, heavy strides were headed her way. She hadn’t felt concerned, she would recognize Steve’s gait in a crowd, until he rounded the doorframe, eyes wide and panicked. “What--?”

“We gotta move,” he urged. “Bomb.”

“We’re too far in,” she breathed. “We’ll never make it out.”

“I know,” Steve said quietly before reaching up to toggle his comms unit. “Sam, put some distance between you and the building. It’s gonna go.” He made his way next to Natasha, catching a hold of her arm and tugging her into a run while he addressed both her and Sam at the same time. “We’re headed for a bunker I found on the initial sweep. We’ll try and make contact once everything settles. See if you can get in contact with Wanda, we might need her help.”

“Got it, Cap,” Sam’s voice came in clearly in her ear. “Be safe. Both of you. Better not go on and get blown up on me.”

“Gonna try,” Steve quipped, urging Natasha down a flight of stairs, carefully staying behind her, between her and where she suspected the blast would originate from.

They had made it to the bunker with only seconds to spare and there was no telling how much structural damage the explosion had caused. Natasha coughed against the dust from the room and from the explosion--for a bunker, the seals around the door didn’t seem to do a damned thing as an airlock--and watched as Steve shrugged off her logic and made his way towards the door anyway. She could see the moment that he realized that she had been correct and the familiar look of annoyed frustration crossed his expression. He leaned closer to the door and hissed jerking his hands away from the hot metal. 

_ Idiot, _ she thought fondly before another coughing fit interrupted her thought process. A wave of dizziness hit her and she leaned back against the wall to steady herself, sliding down the surface to sit on the floor. The coughing fit seemed to have passed only to be replaced with a chill. Tension flooded her body as she recognized that something wasn’t quite right.

“Tash?” Steve was suddenly crouched on the floor beside her, hand outstretched toward her shoulder.

“Don’t touch me,” she hissed in automatic defense and his hand immediately jerked back, dropping into his lap but it didn’t help the sensations rushing over her.

“What’s wrong?” He asked, voice carefully neutral. “Talk to me, Natasha.”

“I don’t know,” she admitted. Hesitantly, she looked up at him and noticed the stiff way he held his body, the coiled tension in his shoulder and jaw. He looked angry. “What’s going on?”

“I think there was something rigged to the bomb,” Steve answered tightly, jaw clenching. “I don’t know what it was. There wasn’t time to take a look and get you and get us to safety. But I’m beginning to think it was a set up. More than just the bomb.”

Natasha shuddered, her body instinctively leaning forward towards Steve’s serum enhanced body heat. With an annoyed groan, she forced her back against the wall and planted her feet, knees bent, in front of her to keep her in place. “Are you? Are you getting any of this or is the serum protecting you?”

Steve slowly rocked back until he was seated on the floor instead of his knees facing her in a mirror image of her own position, knees bent and feet planted. He stared at his hands, draped over his knees for a long moment. Natasha got the feeling he was avoiding looking at her. His head bobbed in an approximation of a nod, to which, she couldn’t be sure until he finally spoke. “Yeah, I’m getting something off of it, I think. Hard to tell what’s leftover adrenaline and what’s...whatever this is, though.”

Natasha let her head fall back against the wall and tried to breath through the discomfort of the chill turning into radiating heat. She shifted against the floor and bit back an annoyed grown at her body’s inability to react reasonably. “What do we do?”

“We seem like we’re mostly good for air for the time being. Not exactly uncontaminated air, but breathable at least,” Steve answered, looking around the room in a way that seemed pointed and intentional, the pinkening on the back of his neck confirming that theory. Natasha frowned, trying to figure out just what it was that had made the man so uncomfortable so quickly. He cleared his throat and continued speaking. “Food and water will be limited but I’ve got enough in my pack that we should be okay as long as we’re careful. Hopefully Sam can get ahold of Wanda. Nat?”

Natasha blinked slowly, tilting her head in question at the prompting of her name.

“You okay?” he asked cautiously, no longer avoiding so much as an accidental glance, instead observing her intently. She shivered against careful scrutiny that she could feel almost as clearly as a physical touch. “Natasha,” he prompted again when she didn’t answer.

“Mm?” she hummed questioningly. Why was he being so serious? Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that the information he was giving her was important and that the details were something that she should want to know. But they felt trivial in comparison to the hazy warmth seeping into her mind. Natasha smiled, slow and lazy, tilting her head in a curious fashion.

“Oh,” Steve said, eyes widening in surprise and the flush that had been creeping over his neck swept fully over his face and ears and beneath the collar of his uniform. He moved quickly to tug a canteen from the pack under the shield on his back and opened it. “Drink, Natasha,” he instructed firmly.

Natasha huffed and rolled her eyes mildly but accepted the water taking a few small sips to satisfy the command before handing it back. Steve accepted it back fingertips ghosting over hers as he took it and Natasha almost wasn’t able to force down the quiet moan at the nearly overwhelming sensation that the simple touch had sparked. He replaced the cap and carefully set the canteen on the floor next to her. “Happy?” She quipped, cocking her head to the side.

“Depends,” he countered. “How do you feel?”

Natasha just smirked and shifted, swinging her legs around until she was settled back onto her knees, conveniently between his still bent ones. She watched his eyes widen in surprise but could see the darkening of dilation as she drew near. 

“Natasha,” he said, tone clearly aiming for a warning but falling short. He quickly jerked his hands out of his lap and planted them on the floor on either side of his hips when she leaned in further. “What the hell was in that blast,” he muttered without breaking eye contact.

“Does it matter?” She asked lowly.

“I-it kinda does, yeah,” Steve said.  _ Why _ was he still talking? The small voice in the back of her mind was commending the man on his ability to hold out against whatever the hell this was but the rest urged her forward again until she caught his lips with hers. 

If the light brush of fingertips while handing off the canteen had been an onslaught of sensation then the firm press of lips was nearly overwhelming. Steve seemed to agree if the low groan he made when he willingly parted his lips for her was any indication. The feel of his tongue curling against hers drew a shudder from them both and pulled Natasha the rest of the way under whatever this spell happened to be. She didn’t bother fighting it anymore.

Natasha gripped his shoulder with one hand for balance while the other slipped into his hair and gripped tightly at the short strands. She smiled against his mouth at the quiet whimper in response. She could feel his muscles tense to the point of trembling beneath her fingertips and heard the concrete beneath them crack under the press of his hands. Despite the strain in his body, his kiss stayed carefully pliant and gentle. It wasn’t enough.

She nudged his legs until she was able to move from kneeling between them to straddling his lap. He didn’t stop her but he also didn’t seem to be encouraging it, his hands stayed firmly planted in the concrete and he hadn’t relaxed even the slightest. 

“Tash. Tasha,” he panted, pulling back from the kiss when she settled astride his hips. “Tash, we gotta--”

“Touch me,” she insisted, pulling him back into another kiss and rolling her hips to grind against the hard length beneath her. “Steve.”

“You, oh,” he shuddered against her when her hand tightened in his hair and she caught his lower lip between sharp teeth. “You told me not to.”

“Now I’m telling you to,” she countered breathlessly.

“Oh god,” Steve groaned and his head fell forward against her shoulder, it wasn’t skin contact but it was just enough to ramp up the heat coiling within her that much higher. “I-I can’t. The-the bomb.”

“I know you want me,” Natasha said, rolling her hips against his very obvious interest once again.

“I do,” he admitted easily if not breathlessly, tilting his head back to meet her eyes head on. “It’s a drug or-or something, Tash. We’re not...this isn’t…” Despite his protests and hesitations, his hands moved from digging into the floor and slid up her legs from knee, over her thighs to rest on her hips. At that moment she hated her uniform. Loathed it and the way it acted as a barrier between those hands and her skin. She hated his too, for that matter. No matter how well he wore the stealth suit. Stark totally could have gone into fashion in another life with this sort of eye for color and detail.

“I really don’t care,” she said dismissively as she methodically began tearing at the various closures of the top half of his uniform. She quickly shoved the heavy material over his shoulders, her hands finding skin and relishing in the way the muscles twitched tellingly at her touch. The combination of whatever was in the air and her hands against his bare chest seemed to have been what did it. What broke through Steve Rogers’ ironclad control. 

“Oh God, please don’t hate me,” he begged through a deep groan. He surged forward, catching her lips in a filthy kiss that lacked any of the careful gentleness of the previous ones. Good, Natasha didn’t want gentle.

His hands moved with newfound urgency, pulling at the various catches of her uniform and stripping it from her body as though he had done it a hundred times before while hers mirrored with precision. The coarse material stung with the rough handling but the sting only served to wind her that much higher. 

Rough, rushing hands meant that both of their uniforms and underclothes were discarded in quick fashion and Natasha was back in his lap, his hands returning to knead and grip firmly at her hips. She arched into him as his mouth tore from hers to trail hotly down over her throat to her chest. She sank into the feel of the coarse scrape of his stubble against her skin and dung her fingers into his hair, clenching tightly when his lips closed hungrily around one of her nipples and then the other. 

Natasha shuddered and moaned when one of the hands on her hips shifted between them until two long fingers could sink into her core and his thumb could stroke firmly against her sensitive clit. Between his lips and tongue and teeth at her breasts and his hand between her legs, Natasha felt herself soaring higher and higher, closer to the impending edge of orgasm. They might have never done this before but he seemed to instinctively know how to work her body. 

When it finally hit her, Natasha came with a low breathless moan. She could feel Steve’s head move away from her chest, could feel his eyes on her face even as his clever fingers continued to work her through it. As soon as his hand withdrew, Natasha wasted no time shoving at his shoulders until he compliantly lay back against the cold concrete floor. His hands had resettled back at her hips, steadying her as she lifted higher onto her knees and reached to take his cock in a firm grip, drawing a low groan and a twitch of his hips. Natasha stroked teasingly twice before she couldn’t bring herself to resist any longer. 

”Oh fuck, Tash--” Steve groaned, exhaling heavily and his hands snapped away from her body, lacing together behind his head, as she lowered herself onto his cock. She allowed herself a small moan at the sensation of being filled so entirely. She had a feeling it would have felt fantastic even without whatever was in the air. When she was fully seated, Natasha allowed herself a long moment to appreciate the view of Steve sprawled beneath her, all pale skin wrapped muscles and unabashed strength completely at her disposal. She experimentally rolled her hips against him once, watching in curious fascination as the muscles of his torso clenched in time with his low groan and heavy breathing and the way his arms thickened with tension when his hands gripped harder. 

When she finally moved, Natasha didn’t bother starting off easy. She planted her hands against his chest and rode fast and hard, feeling a sense of satisfaction when his hands returned to her hips, gripping tightly as he helped, taking her weight as if it were nothing. Steve was far more vocal than she had anticipated him being but the delicious noises and bitten back curses he made only served to urge her on, harder, faster. His knees came up behind her, feet planting on the floor and his grip on her hips tightened further holding her steady. His hips snapped up off of the floor to meet hers, thrusting into her with all the force and unerring precision she could have expected from the supersoldier. 

Natasha found that she couldn’t keep her own noises quiet any longer, her voice mixing with his in the air between and around them. She leaned forward, refusing to give up control completely and caught his lips again. It was less of a kiss and more of a heated press of lips and sounds. She panted against his lips, her nails digging into his chest as the tension in her began to climb towards the edge once more. 

_ “Fuck _ , Tash, Tash. Feels--Oh God--Feel so good, Natasha,” he panted through gritted teeth. “Come on Tash, please. Oh fuck,  _ please.” _

Later, she would insist that it was the drug that drew her sharply to her edge, not the simple fact that she had been enough to drive Steve Rogers to use that sort of language while simultaneously  _ begging. _ As it was, she shattered apart with a shuddering cry, distantly recognizing the pulsing and twitching inside of her when he used his grip on her hips to press her down against him as his own hips ground against her, groaning through his own release. 

She sank forward entirely against his chest, shaking through the aftershocks of her orgasm and reveling in the feel of his hands gently rising to stroke up and down along her spine. Without thinking, she turned her head to press a firm kiss to his skin and smiled slightly when his hands stopped stroking to wrap around her, holding her to him.

Natasha felt the very moment when the serum managed to clear the drug from Steve’s system and realization sunk in. His body tensed beneath hers and his hands very carefully moved from where they had been clinging to her back and pressed flat against the floor under him and his breathing hitched. He didn’t immediately move to dislodge her or pull his still hard cock from inside of her. Other than the tension and his hands, he didn’t move at all. 

She used her hands planted against his chest to push herself upright, ignoring the bitten back groan from Steve as she moved over him. Despite the stimulation, he kept himself as still as he had before she had moved. She could see the wary hesitation when he finally managed to drag his gaze from the ceiling to meet her eyes and the way he carefully kept his eyes firmly on hers without wandering any further.

“I didn’t hurt you?” he asked nearly tonelessly but Natasha knew him well enough to catch the genuine fear and concern underneath.

“No,” she confirmed, pointedly not mentioning the fingerprint shaped bruises blossoming on her hips and thighs. That hadn’t been  _ hurting  _ her as far as she was concerned and the man was obviously beating himself up enough without unnecessarily adding to it. “And I don’t hate you.”

“Are you still under?” He asked, not acknowledging the second statement at all. 

“A little bit,” Natasha admitted, still able to feel some of the tingling beneath her skin, the heat that had driven her to where she currently sat in the first place. As soon as the thought entered her mind, she automatically rocked her hips against him again, seeking out the friction that sent delicious shudders through her. “I still feel it,” she added. “But I’m clear headed.”

He didn’t look like he fully believed her, he pushed himself up into a sitting position until they were at eye level once again. She noticed that for his obvious hesitation, he still moved carefully enough as not to dislodge her from his lap. He sighed heavily, running a hand raggedly over his face before dropping both of his arms to drape over his knees on either side of her. For a moment, Natasha thought that he might kiss her again but he grimaced guilitly and shook his head slowly, “Look, Natasha, I--I’m--”

They both jolted when their comms units began buzzing insistently in their ears. Steve swallowed down whatever he had been about to say and lifted one hand to toggle the device to active while she followed suit. He didn’t look away as he spoke, “Sam.”

“You guys good?” Sam’s voice asked clearly.

“Yeah,” Steve confirmed evenly. “We made it to the bunker before the thing went off. How’s it look out there from your end?” Natasha felt him tense beneath her, his arms moved around her back again, holding her to his body as he moved them, shifting until he could roll onto his knees, settling her gently onto her back. The movement was calculated well enough that he was able to lay her on the top half of his previously discarded uniform rather than on the bare concrete. Even while so obviously hurting, the man had a heart of gold, Natasha thought with an uncomfortable pang of guilt.

“Not pretty,” Sam replied. “Have you been able to check outside from there, yet?”

“No,” Steve answered, pausing long just enough to brush gentle fingertips over Natasha’s cheek and give a pained smile before his expression closed off and he pulled away from her entirely and pushed to his feet. “No, the blast heated the door too high. I’ve been trying to let it cool enough to be able to handle it without making myself useless for anything else that came up.”

Without looking at her, Steve gathered the scattered pieces of her underwear and uniform and set them on the floor beside her hip. His attention quickly shifted to redressing himself, back turned to Natasha though whether it was out of gentlemanly respect or his own sense of guilt, she didn’t know, as he continued speaking with Sam. “Were you able to get in touch with Wanda?”

“Yeah, she’s on her way. Whatever debrise you can’t push through, she’ll be here soon to help move,” Sam said. “Natasha?” he said after a pause. “You good, too?”

“I’m fine,” Natasha answered easily as she carefully redressed, she darted a look in Steve’s direction, intending her response for him as well. “No injuries. I think HYDRA might have just climbed a few notches on my hit list though.”

Sam chuckled in her ear, “I hear you. Soon as we dig you guys out we’ll get right on making it happen.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she smirked.

“Let us know when Wanda gets here,” Steve interjected as he settled the shield back onto its harness once he had finished dawning the last piece of his uniform. “I’m going to check the door. Check back in here in a few.” Without waiting for a response, Steve’s hand rose to his ear to turn off the conversation and made quick, determined strides to the door. He didn’t bother testing the temperature of the door before he grabbed ahold of the lever and wrenched it across the track to unbolt the door.

“He okay?” Sam’s voice asked, concern evident.

Natasha didn’t answer right away, wasn’t entirely sure  _ how _ to answer. Finally, she settled on, “He will be. I’m going to go help. Keep us updated, Sam.”

“Will do,” was the last piece that she heard before reaching to turn her own device off. 

He was running his fingers along the seam of the door when she moved in behind him, without looking away from the door he spoke, tone steady, controlled, and every bit Captain America. Natasha knew that she was no longer dealing with Steve Rogers. “The blast didn’t seem to have gotten hot enough to melt the edges. I should be able to get it open.”

“Steve--,”

“Might want to back up,” he interrupted as he took a step backwards, his hands tightening around the door’s handle and bracing himself to yank. 

“Steve,” Natasha said again, insistently. 

He dropped his hands from the door and turned to face her, meeting her eyes pointedly, “It’s not the time, Natasha. We need to get out of here.”

Natasha could only stare at his back in response to the crisp dismissal when he turned back to the door and pulled. His body strained and his jaw clenched, he released the tension with a shaky groan when the door shrieked but jerked open under his hand. He froze stiffly before scrambling for the pack on his back and tossing something to her.

It was only when she stared down at the SHIELD issued gas mask in her hands that Natasha realized how incredibly stupid it had been to open the door without preparing for that from the start, knowing what they did about the bomb’s  _ extra properties _ . She shot him a slight glare as she pulled the mask over her head and fit the straps appropriately. He wasn’t looking in her direction, too busy fitting his own gear, so the attempt fell flat but she figured he knew anyway. 

“Stay close,” he instructed.


	2. Kiss and Make Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve and Natasha figure out how to deal with the fallout of the Pollen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for Natasha Bingo  
> Square filled: Hurt/Comfort
> 
> There is a lot of feels in this chapter! Hope that you enjoy!

It had been much easier to get out of the building than Natasha thought it should have been considering the sheer amount of destruction the explosion had caused. Steve didn’t say a word but his jaw tightened tellingly each time she stopped to gather samples as they went, tucking the vials back into her belt as she filled them. He could be as annoyed as he wanted with the delay but Natasha needed to know what they had been exposed to.

By the time they reached a portion of the destroyed building that would have been challenging for even Steve to force his way through, a familiar red glow encompassed the mass of steel and concrete, lifting it smoothly from their path. Steve let out a sound of relief that Natasha felt echo through her. Her only thought as they climbed out of the wreckage and found themselves embraced by an equally relieved Sam and Wanda, was that they could  _ finally _ put this mess behind them.

Only, it turned out, they couldn’t. Because Steve was avoiding her. 

Which in itself was unusual. Steve Rogers didn't  _ avoid  _ his problems, he confronted them head on with a stubborn set to his jaw and obstinate determination. But for the week following the ordeal, that was exactly what happened. Any time they found themselves in a room alone, he would give her this excruciatingly guilty expression before ducking his head and making his excuses to some random point over her shoulder to leave as quickly as possible. 

He hadn’t, she realized, spoke a single word directly to her since he ordered her to stay close before they left the bunker. 

She didn't want to admit it but his avoidance  _ hurt. _ Hurt like a knife twisting deep in her chest and left her feeling listless and unmoored. She hadn't realized until that point just how far past her defenses Steve had managed to get and how very much she had come to rely on his presence at her side. The playful teasing they shared and simple affections of tight hugs and acting as a willing foot warmer when they had down time to indulge had a way of setting her at ease in a way that very, very few people were capable of achieving. He was second only to Clint in her mind but she owed her life to Clint too many times over for him to come second to anyone. 

Despite residing in the same safe house, it was another week before Natasha was finally able to catch him on his own where they could speak. Sam had gone on a routine supply run leaving Steve and Natasha to their own devices. He had seemed oddly relieved to have an excuse to get out of the house. Natasha wondered if the awkward tension was getting to him too.

Natasha gathered her courage and settled on to the opposite end of the couch from where Steve sat, sketching distractedly. The silence lingered awkwardly between them for a long moment until Natasha forced herself to break it. She drew a breath to speak and then hesitated before pushing through her discomfort. ”I don't hate you. And,” Natasha winced when his pencil froze mid-stroke and dropped her gaze to stare at her hands tugging at a loose thread on her sweater. ”And I'm sorry.” 

”You’ve got nothing to be sorry for, ” he dismissed easily, immediately picking up where he left off in his sketch without bothering to look away from where lead scratched against paper.

”Don’t I?” She asked, tilting her head to stare at him even if he refused to do the same. His jaw set tellingly and Natasha watched a flash of pain and guilt wash over his expression before he forced it back to neutral. ”Drugged or not, I all but forced myself on you, Steve. You're sitting there hating on yourself and so sure that I should be too but that wasn't on you. Both of us were affected by that drug and only one of us forced the issue.”

”You didn't force anything, HYDRA did. And I should have kept better control over myself,” Steve dropped his pencil into the binding of the sketchbook and sighed, running a hand over his face and then scratching back through his hair in frustration. ”I am angry, ” he admitted quietly. ”I'm so angry, Tash. But I'm not angry with you. And you don't have to apologize for what that... _ stuff _ pushed you to do.”

Natasha’s mind lingered for a moment on the rush of relief she felt at the return of the affectionate shortening of her name. That, as much as any of the words he spoke, felt like things were finally evening out, they were finally getting somewhere, following two long weeks of tension. ”Then what's with the avoidance?” she asked in confusion.

”We’re supposed to be able to trust one another,” he said, finally turning his head to look at her. “You're supposed to be able to rely on me to have your back when you can't. Losing control of myself back there meant that I left you vulnerable while under the influence of some unknown alien substance in a hostile environment. That's not acceptable, Tash. I let you down by giving in when you needed me to be able to hold on.”

“Steve,” Natasha frowned in disbelief.  _ This  _ was what had him so worked up? Of course it was. Only Steve Rogers would be radiating that much self-hatred because he couldn’t control his body’s biological responses to outside influences. “You might be enhanced but you’re still human. You’re allowed the same leeway you’re giving me.”

“Not when it puts you at risk,” he disagreed immediately. “Not when--” Steve cut himself off and settled for shaking his head. He was quiet for a long moment, studying her expression intently. When he spoke again, it was in a quiet, controlled voice, ”I’m all too aware that I’m only human, Tash. But that’s not a good enough reason to put you at risk like that.”

“But then, by that logic, shouldn’t the opposite also be true?” She asked. “You say it wasn’t my fault, that it wasn’t on me. But by giving in like I did, I essentially forced you into a position where you wouldn’t have been as readily capable of defending yourself either. So aren’t I equally responsible?” 

Steve opened his mouth, his intent to argue the point obvious, and Natasha’s brow arched pointedly and he snapped it closed again. “I suppose by that logic, we’re both at fault,” he sighed, expression twisting unpleasantly at the words, as though they tasted something foul on their way out.

“Frankly, I don’t think either of us are at fault,” Natasha shrugged. “If there’s blame to be passed here, it should belong solely to HYDRA and maybe human biology as a whole for being susceptible to that shit.”

He huffed a quiet laugh and nodded in agreement. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “For the whole avoiding thing. I just didn’t,  _ don’t, _ really know what I’m supposed to do with all of this. Not when it still feels like I failed you.”

“I don’t know,” Natasha drawled thoughtfully in an attempt to lighten his somber expression. She shot him a narrow eyed smirk, “I seem to recall two very pleasant successes.” His eyes widened in surprise and a deep flush quickly swept over his face. “Oh, now you’re going to be bashful?” She teased.

“No,” he denied. “Just wasn’t expecting to talk about it, I guess.”

“Why not? It was pretty fantastic sex,” Natasha prodded.

“Didn’t figure you’d want to, considering,” he shrugged. “But it was. Fantastic, that is.”

“Didn’t know you had it in you, Rogers,” she grinned, pleased when the teasing earned a small, almost smug, grin and an affectionate eye roll in response. “Seriously, though, if you’re still beating yourself up about it, I don’t regret that part.”

He eyed her with a curious intensity for a moment before replying with a soft, “Me either.” Steve reached a hand out to her and when she placed hers into it, he tugged gently until she was close enough to pull her into a warm hug, a simple familiarity that she hadn’t realized that she had missed over the past few weeks. She settled comfortably against his side, tucked under the arm still curled around her shoulders, and rested her head against him. They had done this before, just settling into casual comfort together. It was a relief to know that she didn’t have to lose it because of one mission gone wrong.

“Actually, I do regret one thing about it,” she said consideringly.

“What’s that?” He asked curiously, shifting forward to toss his sketchbook and pencil onto the coffee table in front of them, propping his feet comfortably onto the table top as well. He scolded her for putting her feet on dashboards but continuously put his feet on  _ tables, _ she thought exasperatedly.

“All that time I kept trying to set you up on dates when I really should have been trying to get you into bed from the start,” Natasha grinned. Her grin turned into a surprised shriek when his fingers dug slightly into her sides. He was probably the only person she knew that could get away with tickling her without coming away from it with broken fingers.

“You still haven’t gotten me into bed,” he pointed out, lips twitching in amusement.

“Suppose I’ll have to try harder,” she smirked.

Steve settled more comfortably back against the couch and his arms tightening around her and shrugged the shoulder that she wasn’t leaning against. “Whatever you want, Tash,” he responded, his own amusement evident in his voice.

“Whatever I want, huh?” Natasha repeated, tilting her head back to catch his expression. “Has anyone ever warned you that it’s dangerous to give me that kind of power?”

“I’m really not worried,” Steve countered, pinning her with a pointed look. “Pretty sure you already know that you get pretty much whatever you want out of me. Don’t think I haven’t noticed you using that to your advantage.”

“Maybe,” she hummed in indirect agreement. “What about you, though?”

“What about me?” he asked, brows furrowing slightly in confusion at the question.

“You say whatever I want but what about what you want?” She pushed.

A short, amused laugh huffed out of him and he shook his head. His eyes were still bright and the smile lingered when he met her gaze again, “In this instance, what I want seems to line up pretty clearly with what you want so don’t worry about me.”

“Wait,” she cocked her head to the side in mild surprise. “You actually want me.”

His expression shifted into exasperated fondness and he rolled his eyes again, “Not sure how you’re so surprised about that.”

“You never said anything or even… Your body language never even gave you away,” she pointed out.

“Tash,” he said with a small laugh. “We  _ just _ pointed out that you get pretty much whatever you want from me, usually without having to even try. You have since DC.”

“Huh,” she blinked, her mind rapidly scanning through their various interactions throughout the years. She could admit that she wasn't entirely sure what she was supposed to do with that, it wasn’t often that Natasha found herself missing so many obvious signs and signals that she had to completely adjust her world view to accommodate the new information. Gentle fingers against her chin startled her back to the present and Natasha went easily when he tipped her face up toward his.

“I don’t expect anything, Tash,” he assured her quietly. “It’s whatever  _ you _ want.”

“I know,” Natasha responded in the same tone. “What if I don’t know what I want?”

“Then you’re still one of my best and dearest friends and I can love you like that just as well as I can anything else,” Steve answered easily without even a moment of hesitation. “I respect you entirely too much to push. I am completely okay with just this.” He dropped his hand from her chin to wrap his arms back around her in an affectionate hug. “What happened in that bunker doesn’t have to change a damned thing.”

“You love me?” How had she been so far off of the mark? She had known that he was fond and strangely indulgent of her but she had been certain that was the extent of it. Now that she thought about it though, Sam had always seemed oddly amused by their interactions and Steve’s uncharacteristic willingness to fold when she asked it. She supposed that he and Steve were enough alike that he had caught on rather quickly. Unlike Natasha.

“Of course I love you, Natasha,” he said with a gentle smile. “You’re one of my favorite people.”

She sighed and relaxed against him, letting her head rest comfortably against his shoulder, indulging in the close comfort that had been absent in recent weeks. She thought again about how far under her carefully crafted defenses this man had managed to get. He was right. The bunker didn’t have to change anything between them. She could have this, just this, and more importantly, she could  _ keep it. _ And from the sounds of it, she could have more if that’s what she wanted. Steve wasn’t the sort of man that would indulge her with assurance and affection just to take it away at the drop of a hat. When he gave, he gave completely and without reserve. Usually Natasha found that habit of his reckless and dangerous, but being on the receiving end of such dedication left her feeling touched.

At some point during her thoughtful wandering, Steve had retrieved his sketchbook from the table and returned to his drawing, seemingly content to leave her to her thoughts, though he hadn’t withdrawn the arm that held her close against his side. His thumb rubbed slow circles against her side in time with the scratches of pencil against paper. It was odd that the idle, distracted affection could warm her as thoroughly as it did. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly sometime later. He didn’t speak but his arm tightened ever so slightly around her and tilted his head to the side until his cheek rested against her temple and then released. It wasn’t much, not really. But it didn’t need to be for Natasha to recognize and understand the acknowledgement for what it was. 

They stayed like that for a long while. Not bothering to move even when Sam’s familiar voice called out to them that he had made it back safely. Sam rounded the corner into the room and froze. Steve looked up from his sketchbook with an easy smile, “Hey Sam. Everything go okay?”

“Yeah,” Sam nodded, distractedly. Then he shook his head and rolled his eyes. “It’s about damned time you two got your shit sorted. I was about done with the whole awkward avoidance thing. This does mean that you two are good, right? It’s not just some temporary cease fire?”

“We’re good,” Steve told him, though he tilted his head in such a way that Natasha knew that the words were as much for her benefit as Sam’s.

Several nights later, well into the early morning hours, Natasha crept through the safe house, shivering and trembling from remnants of the dream from years long since past. She loathed the nights when her mind led to recall the years spent in the Red Room. She hesitated shakily before she pushed open the door of the bedroom just a few doors down from her own. Steve blinked awake at the sound of his door clicking closed again and she could see him squint slightly to see who was there.

“Tash?” he said sleepily. “You okay?”

“I-I just,” she winced at her own stumbling, trembling voice. She was used to being the strong one. The one who dealt with her own shit and didn’t need to rely on anyone to do it for her. But then, when she’d jerked awake from the terror of her dreamscape, Steve’s words from earlier had come back to her.  _ You're supposed to be able to rely on me to have your back when you can't.  _ Natasha didn’t know what her thought process was, or what precisely she had in mind when her feet automatically led her to Steve’s bedroom door. Maybe, just once, she didn’t want to  _ have _ to be strong. Didn’t  _ want  _ to have to handle her nightmares on her own. Maybe she just wanted the reassurance that even though she  _ could, _ didn’t mean she  _ had to. _

“C’mere,” Steve said, holding a hand out steadily towards her. Just like she had done days earlier on the couch, Natasha went. He folded his hand around hers and gently tugged until she climbed onto his bed. Steve waited patiently until she laid down comfortably, her head against his bare chest where his steady heart beat against her ear, and then his arms came back around her after tucking the blankets around them and he pressed a sleepy kiss to the crown of her head. 

“Sorry,” she murmured, sighing softly when his hand stroked soothing stripes up and down her back, easing the lingering tension and tremors from the nightmare.

“S’okay,” he said. “You’re safe.” 

And it surprised her a little, how easy it was to believe him. That alone was enough to cement her conclusion in her mind. After a brief moment of hesitation, Natasha tilted her head back and slipped her hand from his chest up to cup the back of his head, gently tugging his head down. Steve went easily, leaning in and catching her lips in a slow, lazy kiss. His hands came to a rest, one splayed at the small of her back beneath her thin tshirt and the other curving warmly around her shoulder.

He let her guide the kiss, not even trying to take control. Her tongue teasingly traced the seam of his lips and he opened to her without hesitation. Natasha adjusted her angle and stretched further into him in order to deepen the kiss. Natasha tugged gently at him again and shifted her weight backwards. Steve followed her cues seamlessly, rolling them until she was flat on the bed and he hovered over her. He took over then, his hand leaving her shoulder to cup her jaw as he dove into it. 

She had wondered how Steve kissed when he wasn’t being uncharacteristically pliant. He shed the laziness from before and kissed her with an intensity that made her feel both treasured and devoured. When he finally pulled back, breaking the kiss slowly, Natasha was delightfully breathless. Her hands had been clinging to his back during the heated kiss but moved over his back and chest curiously when they broke, exploring the firm muscles and warm skin in a way she hadn’t been able to the last time. He shivered against her touch, his eyes remaining on her face allowing her to touch and to look as she wanted. 

Momentarily satisfied with her exploration, Natasha lifted her head to catch his lips again. She shifted until she could hook one leg around his waist, as with before, Steve went complacently, letting her move them into the position of her liking. Which ended up with Steve cradled between her thighs and her ankles crossed behind his back, his warm body stretched over her smaller frame while his forearms on either side of her head supported his weight.

She thought it should have made her feel caged, trapped, but she knew to her core that the very moment he sensed the slightest hesitation from her he would stop without her having to say a word. That she knew that about him and knew it to be absolute fact settled any discomfort the enveloping position might have caused. 

Her legs tightened around his waist and he responded automatically with a roll of his hips that ground his erection into her center, a few thin pieces of fabric separating them, sending sparks up her spine. He groaned lowly against her lips and broke the kiss, letting his head fall against her shoulder. “Sorry,” he panted against her skin, shifting in an attempt to keep his arousal from touching her. Natasha just used her leg strength to rock her body against his again. 

_ “Tash,” _ Steve groaned, his nose nudging aside the collar of her shirt to press a heated kiss to the skin underneath drawing a quiet gasp from her. Natasha shifted somewhat awkwardly under him, nudging him up just enough, until she was able to wriggle out of her shirt, tossing it over the edge of the bed. 

His eyes scanned her face intently for a brief moment before he dropped his head back to devote attention down over her neck and chest. Hot, open mouthed kisses, sharp nips, and soothing laves of his tongue trailed down her throat and over her collar bones and sternum. He shifted his weight onto one arm and brought his other hand to tease over her left nipple as his lips and tongue closed over her right. Steve let out a low, startled sound when her fingers found his nipples, stroking and tweaking them in time with his attention on hers. His head tipped enough that she could see the heated amusement in his eyes.

Without breaking the stare, Steve pulled away from her breasts and rose back over her, his free hand running almost reverently across the skin over her ribs and stomach and coming to a rest at her hip where he squeezed gently. “May I?” he asked softly, his fingers curling into the fabric of her sleep pants.

“You first,” she countered. 

“You got it,” he murmured against her lips, stealing a lingering kiss before pulling away from her entirely and rocking back onto his knees. He showed no hesitation at shedding the thin cotton under her curious attention, tossing them to join her shirt on the floor. 

Natasha sat up slowly, reaching out and letting her hands roam freely over him, relishing in the opportunity to touch and explore the body that she had only been allowed fleeting appreciation for in the bunker. He stayed still under her hands, settled on his knees in front of her on the bed, his own hands curled loosely against his thighs, unashamed and unembrassed at her perusal. 

She folded her legs under her and pushed up onto her knees, stretching upward until she could kiss him again. He groaned into the kiss when her hand wrapped around his cock with a firm grip and stroked in slow, measured movements. Like the rest of him, it was sizable, above average but, unlike the rest of him, not intimidatingly so. Her touch urged him back into movement and his hands rose back to her waist, dropping the scant inches until his fingers hooked in her waist band and paused.

“Yes,” she breathed into the kiss, nipping lightly at his lips in encouragement.

He carefully helped her out of the last of her clothing and tugged at her waist until she settled into his lap. His hand slid to the center of her back, pressing firmly until they were molded flush together, his lips and tongue against the curve of her neck and shoulder. Natasha rolled her hips against him, her hands digging into his hair, holding his head against her.

One of his arms banded around her hips and lifted her and he pulled away from the attention he had been paying to her neck to meet her gaze head on. His voice came in pants but was earnest and serious when he spoke, “You sure, Tash?”

She couldn’t help the fond, if not exasperated, smile. “I’m sure,” she answered, meeting his eyes steadily. His eyes studied her expression intently, searching for anything that might counter her words, any reluctance or hesitation. He wouldn’t find any because she didn’t feel any. 

_ “I don’t expect anything, Tash,” he assured her quietly. “It’s whatever you want.” _

_ “I know,” Natasha responded in the same tone. “What if I don’t know what I want?” _

But she knew what she wanted. Conversation could wait until morning.

He nodded in acceptance and reached beneath her to take himself in hand. She felt the blunt head of his cock nudge against her and shifted her hips in his grip until he could guide himself inside of her. Natasha bit back a moan at the initial intrusion though he didn’t seem interested in trying to muffle his own, letting her eyes fall closed at the sensation. He didn’t thrust up and he didn’t manhandle her down onto him. His eyes stayed attentively on her face, bracing her but allowing Natasha and gravity to sink her down onto him. 

When she was fully seated, his arm around her hips loosened and broad palms shifted to slide from her knees, over her thighs and hips and up to her shoulders before stroking back down to her waist, leaving goosebumps and shivering skin in their wake. “You okay?” he asked shakily.

She laughed but nodded, “Yes, Steve, I’m okay. Promise.”

He grinned sheepishly but ducked his head in to claim another kiss. Unlike the rough, frenzied movements they had used back on the floor of the bunker, this time, they rocked together in a slow, unhurried pace. His kisses and his touch were gentle. Not in a way that suggested that he was treating her like glass but rather as though she were something precious, something to be handled with reverence. 

His hands cradled her against him as he leaned forward, carefully placing her back onto the bed and stretching over her, covering her with his large body. Her name whispered lowly against her lips, sweet praise groaned breathlessly into her ears as he rocked slowly but deeply into her. One arm braced most of his weight while the other hand ghosted over her skin, leaving a tingling awareness in its wake.

She didn’t think that she had ever been treated so softly. She hadn’t known that it was something she could want or have. Didn’t know that it was something that she would enjoy so much.

Her orgasm surprised her both in its suddenness and its intensity. Her legs tightened around his waist and her fingertips dug into his back as her body arched into his, wordless whimpers escaping her in the onslaught of feeling. “Oh,” Steve groaned over her, carefully maintaining the unhurried pace of his hips. “There you go, Tash. Beautiful,” he whispered against her lips. 

When the shivering aftershocks began to settle, Steve steadily increased the speed and intensity of his thrusts, his hand sliding down her thigh until fingers hooked behind her knee at his waist. He tucked the bend of her knee into the crook of his elbow and replanted his hand on the bed next to her shoulder. The change of angle and the faster, harder thrusts had Natasha’s mind scrambling.

The hand not bracing her knee, slipped between them, his fingers zeroing in quickly on her clit immediately started rubbing in tight circles in time with the thrusts of his hips. It was suddenly too much. When she came the second time, he kissed her soundly, muffling her cries and swallowing them down. She could feel his body suddenly tense over her and it was his moans being muffled by their kiss as his hips snapped forward and ground tight circles against her, drawing out both of their pleasures. 

As the kiss changed from heated to deep and lingering, Steve moved his arm from under her knee, his hand massaging gently at her hip to help ease any stiffness in the joint. With careful movements, he eased out of her body and laid down beside her, pulling her with him until she was sprawled across his chest. This time, he didn't stiffen under her, didn't pull away his touch. His body stayed loose and languid beneath her and he held her close, seemingly unwilling to let her go if she didn’t demand it, one arm resting around her waist and the other crossing over her shoulder where his fingers played idly with a lock of her hair.

In the afterglow, Natasha’s mind hummed pleasantly and their conversation from earlier that day echoed through her memory.

_ “I don’t expect anything, Tash...It’s whatever you want.” _

_ “What if I don’t know what I want?” _

_ “Then you’re still one of my best and dearest friends and I can love you like that just as well as I can anything else...” _

_ “You love me?” _

_ “Of course I love you, Natasha...You’re one of my favorite people.” _

“Steve?” She said quietly, her fingers tracing idle patterns against his chest. When he made a sleepy, acknowledging noise, Natasha smiled softly. “You’re my favorite person too.” 

His arms tightened around her and she could feel his lips press against the top of her head. Steve’s hand left her back long enough to reach for the blanket and pull it back over them before tucking securely back around her. The sense of safety and warm contentment and his steady heartbeat in her ear pulled her easily into a sleep so deep even the Red Room couldn’t reach her. 


End file.
